


Super healing can't fix this

by JJ_X_Trem



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Because that stuff is nasty as heck, Child Abuse, F/M, Foul Language, Physical Abuse, Roy is the best big brother, no sexual abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-07-12 07:13:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15990278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJ_X_Trem/pseuds/JJ_X_Trem
Summary: Hot tears of shame clouded his vision. The sick twisting feeling in his gut was too deafening to be blamed on the hard punch his father had managed to land on him earlier. What kind of hero was he?Or,I really got tired of the way abused children are written sometimes and decided to take a stab at it myself. So, have an abused Wally Fic!





	1. Reaching out for a helping hand.

**Author's Note:**

> I in no way claim to say I have all the fact of how an abused child acts. I can only use my current knowledge to write from what I know in my own experiences to be true. Please enjoy!

With a grip on the edge of the sink that turned his knuckles white, Wally glared at the battered and bruised figure that stared back at him in the mirror. With a split lip that was already a quarter of the way through healing its self and the ugly black and blue blemishes on his chest already beginning to fade, the evidence from the fight he’d had before was already starting to disappear. 

 

Hot tears of shame clouded his vision. The sick twisting feeling in his gut was too deafening to be blamed on the hard punch his father had managed to land on him earlier. What kind of hero was he? Saving entire cities one day but then the next he was getting his ass handed to him by his old man. 

 

* * *

 

Wally couldn’t even remember what had started it this time. A hard day of training with Canary had the speedster exhausted when he finally came home. His dad hadn’t even been drinking at the time. He’d probably just been in a bad mood. It seemed that one bad mood and few misplaced words ended up with them in the most horrendous screaming matches nowadays.  

 

They argued about everything. From Wally’s school to his dad’s lack of a job, again, and God forbid someone bring up hero work. They could fight about that for hours. With harsh words thrown from both mouths in ways that cut like razor blades, it never ended well.  

 

Like now for example. His dad had just rubbed him a little too wrong, and he fell for it like an idiot. Hook, line, and sinker. One misplaced word and his dad snapped and beat the day lights out of him.  

 

It was times like then that Wally would think about how it all started.  

 

His dad was always needling him about him being kid flash, but he wasn’t upset about his powers. He was upset about how he was using them.  

 

One would think that he would have been mad that Wally had blown the garage up and given himself freaking super powers at the age of eleven, but no. Wally had finally gone and done something useful with his life. He wasn’t just a good for nothing whiney brat anymore.  

 

With powers came responsibility, and both his father and his Uncle Barry had made that clear. His dad a bit more harshly that his uncle, but still. It was strange at the time to see his dad so proud of him for once. He got that look the first time he came home in his hero costume.  

 

His dad had loved seeing him in it. His son was finally turning into a real man. With hero training suddenly taking up so much of Wally’s time he had to quit drama class and “All that other girly crap”. Sure, the words had stung but the grin he got was enough to make twelve-year-old him happy for weeks.  

 

His dad had never given him so much attention. He could have killed himself instead of giving himself super powers, but it was worth it. So very much worth it, and it was all amazingly great.  

 

His dad never spared him the time of day before then, but now he was constantly asking him about training. What was his fastest speed now? When was Barry taking him out into the field? Had Wally picked a hero name yet? 

 

It was soon after kid flash debuted that things began to go downhill. Lectures from his dad about him slacking off with his school and hero training. That he wasn’t trying hard enough if he was still getting beaten by this villain or that villainess. That he really was just as stupid and lazy as his dad had thought.  

 

He took the verbal battering for around six months before he snapped back. Hell, Wally couldn’t even remember what verbal dart he’d thrown back at his dad. Maybe it was about his drinking or one of his sleezy girlfriends that he never kept for more than a month. Whatever it had been, it had been enough to send them both yelling for more than an hour. 

 

At thirteen as a rising hero, in the sidekick community at least, Wally tried to put his dad in the back of his mind. School, kicking bad guy butt, and spending time with his new friends Robin and Speedy had him so busy it made his head spin. He didn’t have time for his dad or the fact that his drinking was getting worse.  

 

Wally just made sure to avoid the house during certain hours, but there was one time when the League was off world; Flash in no way trusted him to suit up without him, so he was stuck home. His dad came back so drunk he ping-ponged down the front hallway with some equally lit red head stuck to his arm.  

 

The two adults had been giggling to each other like idiots on the couch when his dad began feeling her chest up. Wally, like an idiot without a single survival instinct, had made a rather annoyed and disgusted comment about it and her state of dress. His dad jumped up and slapped him square across the face.  

 

Wally was shocked. The woman looked confused. His dad had actually seemed surprised.  

 

The next morning no one talked about it, and it was never brought up ever. A month later, his dad punched him for some smart mouth comment on him finally losing his job. The first of many times his dad would lose his job, actually. Super healing wiped the bruise away and made his cheek look brand new, but the memory stayed. The feelings he had for his dad changed that day and so did the way he was treated.  

 

Soon it was every time something made his dad mad that he got hit. It didn’t matter if it was a bad report card of someone had said something to piss his dad off at the bar. He was a prime punching bag, and Wally learned to avoid his home like the plague.  

 

His Uncle Barry and Aunt Iris never saw the bloody noses or the bruised shoulders thanks to super healing. The off handed comments that Wally and him had gotten into an argument to explain why Wally wanted to stay at their place for the weekend were easily accepted. They were always happy to have him. They just chalked up how often they seemed to argue to teenage rebellion and that his dad’s temper had always been a bit mild.  

 

They never knew how much it had grown over the years with his wife, Iris’s sister, divorcing him and leaving him with an eight-year-old who just wanted to know why his mom had left.  

 

Wally refused to let anyone find out about the abuse. Not even Dick knew, and they shared everything. The wounds always healed before they saw each other again and Wally never brought him over to his house. The only one who seemed to notice something was up was Roy. With a keen eye and freakily accurate older brother instincts that he had for Kaldur, Dick, and Wally, he gradually noticed something was happening over time.  

 

Roy even confronted him once, flat out just asking the nearly fifteen-year-old if his dad was hitting him after he showed up with a black eye to an emergency in Star city that Green arrow needed Flash’s help with. He was seeing the signs of the abuse in the young speedster, but couldn’t do anything about it without any real proof. 

 

Wally quickly denied it and said something had simply fallen off the shelf above his bed and hit him in the face. No need to worry, because he’d be exactly the kind of hero his dad always called him if Wally was just letting him hit him.  

 

A coward who couldn’t defend himself. He had the speed force in him, a drunk idiot should have been nothing. It usually was, after all, on patrol with his mentor. The thing was though, when it came to his dad, Wally always just took it.  

 

To use his powers for anything other than being heroic would have been wrong, not to mention it would have been letting his dad win. The man usually taunted him when he went at him. If he was  _such_  a great hero, why didn’t he ever fight back? He was a useless idiot that couldn’t even throw a punch back. The words hurt more than Wally would ever let on.  

 

It wasn’t all bad though. He eventually met and saved Conner, started a team with his friends, and was finally more than just a sidekick. Sure, he would have loved for Roy to join, but this way he got no more weird looks or questions about his strange behavior. His secret was safe, and the horror of even the  _idea_  of his friends finding out was enough for him to make sure they  **never** knew.  

 

As Wally’s life got better, his dad’s seemed to be getting worse. The electricity bill money was being spent on beer and other forms of liquor. He wasn’t even trying to find a job anymore. At least no more random chicks were showing up at the house now.  

 

When Wally came home one week, a few months after Artemis had joined the team, he probably should have just headed to his room and grabbed his overnight bag.  

 

It was with a frustrated groan that he entered the living room. Empty beer cans and bottles littered the table. Wally scrunched his nose up at the sight of the old Mc Donalds burgers that laid half eaten, from who even knows when. With a curious look, he picked up one of the coffee cups up of the table.  

 

Last he checked when he left a week ago to stay at his Aunt and Uncle’s, all his dad drank was alcohol and water. Something else was strange. One glance and Wally gagged, quickly setting it back down on the table. Whatever it was, was molded and could no longer be properly identified.  

 

With a grimace, he went to go inspect the state of the kitchen. The trash desperately needed to be taken out and the sink was full again. It seemed something’d been spilled on the floor and had been poorly wiped up. Wally could feel the slight pull on the bottom of his shoes from whatever the sticky mess on the floor was. 

 

A shudder ran up his spine. Wally was messy himself, but this was just disgusting. As he continued to inspect the house, he was glad he always locked his door with a key before he left. It seemed his father had managed to make a disaster area of every room in the house. Even the closet was open, sheets and extra cleaning supplies that hadn’t ever been touched were knocked off the shelf and spilling out into the hallway. 

 

Enough was enough. Rolling up his sleeves, he set to work cleaning the house. Room by room, until they shone. He slowly lost himself in the feeling of annoyance and mild anger as the hours of cleaning trudged on. How could one man make this much mess in the span of one week? Sure, Wally forgot to do the dishes or take the trash to the curb every now and then, but this was just ridiculous! 

 

It was around seven at night when his dad finally came home, slamming the door shut loudly behind him. Wally pulled one of his ear buds out so he could hear the stumbling man come wandering into the kitchen behind him. Wally listened to the sound of liquid being sloshed around in a bottle, no need to turn around to know his dad was drinking. Great. 

 

“Welcome home,” Wally greeted dryly.  

 

“When the hell did you get back?” His father asked, his voice still clear. At least he wasn’t hammered.  

 

“Hours ago, Aunt Iris dropped me off.” He could feel all the toxic feelings that had been stirring for the last few hours beginning to bubble to the surface.  

 

“And what is all this supposed to be?” 

 

“Cleaning, I know.” Wally adopted a sarcastic tone. “It must be a completely foreigner concept to you at this point.” 

 

Footsteps behind him told him that his dad was now in arm's length reach. Hitting distance was what his brain more accurately reminded him.  

 

“I’d watch your tone with me,” he warned, his voice slowly pooling with some of the same anger Wally was feeling himself. “You’ve gotten rather loose lipped lately. I get the feeling you need me to remind you who the adult is here.”  

 

“ _Really_?” Wally asked as sarcastically as he dared. He stood up from where he was working on getting some stain up off the floor. He glared daggers at his dad. “I’m the child here? Then why the hell am I cleaning up your mess!” He snarled.  

 

“I’m going to give you three seconds to apologize.” The older man stepped into his personal space. This close you could smell the booze on his breath. The way his eye brows pulled together, the bluish gray color of the man’s eyes disappearing with the way he squinted at him. The fierce hate in those eyes, it made him wish for the soft green of his mother’s.  

 

“Apologize?” Wally scoffed. “Let’s get one thing straight, you don’t deserve crap from me. I don’t have to stand here and take anymore of-” 

 

 **Thwack.**  

 

A hard hit to his face. The warmth of pain spilled out over his cheek. 

 

Wally stumbled back into the counter behind him, his spine hitting it in a way he thought might just maybe bruise. Either way, it hurt, but the acidic taste of untold words on his tongue was far more distracting.  

 

“You’re no man, boy.” His father spit at him. A slight triumphant grin curling on his lips. “You have no place talking like one.” 

 

This was where Wally usually gave up, backed down and shut up. After the first or second hit and all the fight slipped out of him. His son was a coward, couldn’t even take one punch. 

 

Wally was the farthest thing from a coward, but he knew he only had so much self-control. It was either shut up and put a tight seal on his anger, or fight back finally.  

 

But that feeling of hate put something dark swirling into his stomach. It reminded him of the dreams where he finally snapped and beat the crap out of his dad. He never woke up feeling good, more sick than anything else. No, he didn’t want that. 

 

Hero, he was a hero. 

 

Wally chanted it like a mantra in his head as he pushed himself away from the counter. It was his silent prayer as he looked his dad in the eye and straightened his shoulders.  

 

“So, still got some more fight in ya?” He laughed, the sound was like sandpaper on Wally’s eardrums. “Good,” He smiled wide. “I still need something to hit.” 

 

Wally took the next hit, and the next, and the next. Took it like the pro he was, before he straightened his shoulders again.  

 

His dad rubbed his knuckles slowly. A mildly questioning look pinned to his face. “What? Think you’re tough shit?”  

 

Tears pooled in Wally’s eyes, but they weren’t fed with sadness. They burned like the loathing collecting in his chest. His throat was tight with slurs that would have made his Aunt Iris gasp, he swallowed them down. No matter how hard it was.  

 

He was a hero. He would act like one. He could do it, right? 

 

That all went out the window as his dad started talking. 

 

“You’re the reason your mom left, you know that?” His father had a dark glint in his eyes. He looked like a man bent on revenge. Not like a dad. What even was a dad supposed to be anymore, Wally wondered.  

 

“She was tired of taking care of an ungrateful brat like you. You’d always rather run off to your damn aunt or uncle when she was around. She probably got fed up with your whining.” 

 

It had always been an unspoken rule between them. Mary, Wally’s mother, stayed out of their fights. She was a topic that hurt too much for either of them to talk about.  

 

Well, hurt too much until now.  

 

“She never wanted a useless kid like you, still a useless kid now. Aren't you?” 

 

Red clouded Wally’s vision, and before he knew it the familiar tingle of the speed force running through him sent his nerves alight. When his vision cleared, his dad was knocked out on the floor.  

 

Shock was the first thing that washed over him, next was panic. How hard had he hit him? Enough to brake something? Was he just passed out... or... 

 

His heart hammered in his chest.  

 

Wally dropped to the floor and checked his breathing and if he’d knocked his head on the floor. Steady breathing. No blood, just a bump on his dad’s head.  

 

He ran to his room, letting the adrenaline take over him as he used the speed force and packed another overnight-bag. He heart continued to thud in his ears, nausea filling his gut and bubbling up his throat.  

 

Oh God. What had he done? He stopped throwing socks into his duffle bag, pausing to put a shaking hand onto dresser and lean against it. Tears of shame rolled down his stinging cheeks. He choked down a ragged sob, hurrying to finish. He grabbed his school bag too this time. Another bag of clothes. He didn’t want to come back.  

 

Not for a long time.  

 

With his bags hefted onto his shoulders, he fled. It only took around thirty seconds to get out of town, avoiding anywhere too populated. He took another gulp of air before starting his run to star city. Fifteen minutes and he was in front of Roy’s door, hesitating to knock.  

 

He wanted to go to him instead of his Aunt and Uncle’s, or even the cave. He wanted someone who wouldn’t question why he was suddenly avoiding his house for so long. Roy had always said to come to him if something was really wrong, right? 

 

Dick had stayed at Roy’s place a couple times when he wasn’t getting along with batman. So, would this be OK? He didn’t have any other option. He knocked. 

 

Footsteps. A yelled, “Just a sec!” and the door was being pulled open. 

 

Never mind, this had been a bad idea. He could hide at that old clubhouse him and his few friends he’d had built back in fifth grade. He couldn’t do this. 

 

Roy must have seen the look on his face, because he grabbed his arm quickly so he couldn’t run. “Whoa.  _Calm down_. Breath Wally, what the **hell**?” His eyes flicked over the bags slung onto his back to the bruises on his face. His lips pinched together in obvious displeasure.  

 

“Bags on the living room floor. You can take the couch. It’s a pull out.” 

 

* * *

 

Roy never thought he would ever tell  **himself**  of all people, _“I told you so”_.  

 

Yet here he was. 

 

He watched as Wally dropped his bags on the floor. A nasty feeling of guilt swept through him as he took in the extent of his young friend's injuries. He tried to remember that he could have gotten them anywhere and that he should wait for a proper explanation first, but no matter which way he spun it he came back to the same conclusion. He reminded himself to breathe for a few seconds before addressing Wally.  

 

“When was the last time you ate?” He asked, applauding himself silently for his ability to stay calm.  

 

All he wanted to do was grab Wally again and demand answers, but that wasn’t what he needed. So, he’d take it slow, get him talking once he was comfortable. The young speedster always was a motor mouth when it came down to it. 

 

“Um, awhile? I kind of forgot to eat.” 

 

Roy scoffed. “You? Forget to eat? Next thing I know you’ll be telling me Dick hates the circus.” 

 

“Hahaha.” He rolled his eyes sarcastically. “I’ll have you know that I don’t always have food on my mind.” He smiled and followed the older man into the kitchen, adding happily, “Just most of the time.” 

 

“Sounds about right.” 

 

Roy set to making more sandwiches that he could have ever possibly eaten in one sitting. Wally simply took them as they were made. Around his seventh one, he stopped nearly choking himself on them and slowed down a bit. 

 

Wally was asked all the usual questions. How was the mission the team went on last week? Was he still having trouble with the history project?  Were his Aunt and Uncle doing well? 

 

Roy noted the lack of eye contact whenever he got an answer. He hoped that talking and food would have helped Wally feel more comfortable.  _-Speaking of feeding the speedster, getting more groceries was_ _definitely_ _in_ _order-_  But it wasn’t working like he hoped. Even as he watched the bruises on his friend’s face fade, his shoulders never seemed to lose that slight tension.  

 

Roy hated to do it, but in his experience, it was a good way to tell if a kid was being physically abused. Not even looking up from his newest sandwich, he flung his hand quickly in front of Wally’s face. Never touching him, just inches from the tip of his nose.  

 

He looked up afterwards to see Wally had dropped his half-eaten sandwich on the floor, and he was a full three feet away from where he’d been a second ago. The wide eyed, slightly panicked look in his eyes was all it took to know Roy was right. 

 

The reflex to get away, he understood. Wally was a hero after all, but the anxiety ridden terror that was painted all over his defensive stance was the last piece of evidence he needed to convince himself one-hundred-percent that he was right. 

 

Wally swallowed and rubbed at one of his rosy cheeks, flushed with embarrassment. “The heck man?” 

 

Roy gave him an appraising look, squinting at him in a way that made shivers go down Wally’s spine. He looked away calmly and went back to finishing the sandwich on the plate in front of him. 

 

“So,” He carefully placed a slice of cheese on the mayo covered bread. “You want to talk about what happened between you and your dad?” 

 

Wally could hear his heart as it thudded in his ears. He tried to wipe the clammy feeling off his hands, hoping Roy took it for his usual bad manners and assumed he was trying to get rid of sandwich crumbs instead. “I don’t know what you’re-” 

 

“I’m not stupid, and neither are you. No matter how much you pretend to be at times to get out of responsibilities.” 

 

His gaze fell to the floor, his throat tight and his stomached knotted. “No, I don’t really want to talk about it.” His eyes fell closed and all he could see was his dad passed out on the floor. He didn’t realize he was crying until he opened his eyes and could see the droplets of water hitting the ground.  

 

Shame devoured him. The same question that he’d asked himself before was hitting him hard again. What had he done? He’d broke just like his dad had wanted.  

 

His hand slid over his mouth and smothered a sob. Arms wrapped around him in a warm embrace. It took a minute, but eventually he gave in and leaned against Roy.  

 

It wasn’t a fix. He’d still have to face his father again. His Aunt and Uncle would want to know why he never wanted to set foot in his home again. Roy would want the full story, but that could all wait. He felt the world slip away as he let the older teen pull him onto the couch.  

 

He cried for a while longer before falling asleep to the feeling of Roy running his fingers through his hair. The world could forget him for a bit. For now, he just wanted to pretend it wasn’t there.  

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy tries to get to the root with of what happened to Wally. It doesn't go quite as he hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate how this turned out, but I'm done rewriting it. Sorry that this chapter is so short.

Roy watched as the bruises on Wally’s skin faded away. No cuts. No more purple or blue marring. No evidence of the pain the young speedster had been going through for too long. 

How long had he hidden this? Was it by choice? Was his dad making him? How the hell were they supposed to be able to prove abuse in a situation like this? Any physical signs washed away too fast. Roy felt like kicking himself for not taking pictures as soon as Wally had shown up on his doorstep. Did Wally even want to press charges? 

Something dark burned in Roy’s chest. If Wally didn’t want to handle this legally, he was always more than happy to put the fear of God into that bastard of a father. He knew his methods weren’t always approved by Oliver, but he should be able to understand just this once considering the circumstances. 

His eyebrows pinched together, lips twisted in displeasure. He ghosted his fingertips over Wally’s newly healed skin. How many times had a bruise healed there and gone unnoticed? He settled his touch over his friend's temple. What about mental abuse? 

Roy knew Wally could be a bit of an actor sometimes, but just how good was he? When him and Dick got to playing pranks, he knew they could both do pretty well. Scratch that, Dick was always an excellent actor. Wally on the other hand was a mystery. He tended to play himself a bit dumbed down at times to get out of work. Hence the nickname his blonde replacement often gave him, Kid-idiot, but how long could he keep an act up?   


A new thought struck Roy, and he wondered why he hadn’t asked himself this sooner.  _Where was Wally’s mom?_  He tried to dig through the years’ worth of memories he shared with his dork of a friend, but he couldn’t remember even once Wally saying anything about his mom. Then again, he didn’t talk about his parents much. His aunt and uncle however, that was a completely different story. 

 

**Crap** , how  _the_   _hell_  was he supposed to explain any of this to Barry. 

That. . . was a subject for when Wally woke up. 

* * *

 

One amazing nap later and another round of sandwiches with some apples to wash it down, Wally found himself sitting at Roy’s kitchen table.

“You can stay as long as you need, but I want the full story.” 

The older teen’s face was impassive, could all older people make that expression? Kaldur and his uncle gave him that look more times than he could count, and it was Batman’s default. Dick was pretty good at it too, but he was raised by Batman, so he didn’t count. 

Either way, Wally couldn’t get a read off Roy, and it was a bit nerve racking. Was he angry at him? 

“Um, the full story?” Wally frowned and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “Like, what we were fighting about?”

“Let me rephrase.” Roy tilted his head back and forth slowly, contemplatively. “How long have you been having fights like this?”

His gaze fell down to his hands as he twisted them together in his lap below the table. A heavy cloud of shame loomed over him. “The verbal kind. . .?” He trailed off before swallowing thickly. 

“Sure, they probably started off verbal after all. When did you and your dad start having. . . verbal fights.”

Wally nodded, mostly for his own sake than anyone else's. As stupid as it might seem, it was a way to ground himself. “I was thirteen? It was after I took on the mantle of Kid Flash.”

Roy tilted his head slightly with interest, trying to get him to continue. Wally didn’t look pleased with it, but he went on with the story.

“We faught about a lot of things. School, his job, my club activities. . . mostly about my hero work.”

The older teen was taken aback. “Your dad doesn’t want you to be Kid Flash?”

“No! No! He loves it actually.” Wally’s mouth started to taste sour. “I just can’t seem to be good enough at it for him is all.” 

Was anything he ever did good enough for his dad? Why couldn’t he be enough?

Roy’s voice was hushed when he asked, “When was the first time he hit you?” 

The words thundered in Wally’s ears. His neck felt hot and his stomach twisted something awful. Again, he swallowed the tightening knot in his throat down. 

“A month before my fourteenth birthday.” His voice sounded just as strained as he felt. He could practically hear his heartbeat in his ears. 

The blatant pain on Roy’s face was enough to make Wally want to run away again. He didn’t need pity. He didn’t  _want_ pity. 

_-Stop. Don’t look at me like that. Like I’m a victim. I’m a hero. I don’t need that look._ **_Stop. -_ **

“How often does he do this?” Roy could feel his hands shake with how hard he was tightening them under the table. He was too distracted with resisting the urge to go beat the crap out of Wally’s dad to notice just how much Wally was curling into himself. 

“It’s not that big of a deal dude, mostly my fault anyway if we’re being honest here-”

“ **Wally**.”

He flinched at the tone of his name, at the pure rage rolling off his friend. The guy he saw as a big brother. - _W_ _hy did he look so different? Where was the Roy he knew? Rage, why did it change people so much?_ _Anger was scarier than any_ _villain_ _he knew_ -

“ _A lot, OK!”_  He snapped. His fingers were digging into his lap hard enough to start turning them white. “It’s just whenever he’s mad or has a bad day, alright? I made some smart mouth comment this time and got what I deserved. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

He glared at the table, positive that he couldn’t stand to look at Roy anymore. He couldn’t face whatever pity or disappointment he was going to get in response.

“I got what I deserved, because I can’t do crap. Because I just suck at everything- School, hero work.  **God** , Artemis is right. I’m so  _stupid_. I can’t do  _anything_  right.”

A sharp intake of breath. The scrape of a chair against the floor. Arms wrapping round his neck from behind. 

Things Wally could hear and feel, but not see. His eyes were screwed shut too tight for that. 

His voice broke. “Hell, Roy. What did I do?” He felt like someone had his heart in a tight grip, slowly squeezing it harder and harder. 

“Do?” He murmured softly back.

Wally’s shoulders trembled. His lips tasted salty, like the tears running down his cheeks. “I did exactly what he wanted,” He choked. “I hit him back finally. He brought up mom and I- I snapped. I didn’t mean to. I swear-”

“Shh.” Roy pulled him closer. Damn it. And he’d just gotten Wally calmed down with that nap. Count on his wonderful ability to put everyone in a bad mood to strike when it was least wanted. “Breathe, use your words, Walls. You’ve got this.”

“He said it was my fault, th-that mom left.” He’d managed to work himself up enough to get the hiccups. “I know I shouldn’t have listened-  ** _Hic_** \- But everything just blanked and next thing I know he was passed out on the ground and- and-  ** _Hic_**.”

Again, Roy shushed him. With a gentle tug, he pulled Wally up and into a hug. 

“Whatever you did, we’ll worry about it later.” Roy shifted him over to the couch, a weird feeling of  _DeJa'Vu_ hitting him. He reminded himself that this wasn’t lost progress . . . Just a small bump in the road. He’d found out how long the physical abuse had been going on. He also learned he was sending Wally back to that house over his dead body.

Which meant he would have to tell someone about this eventually, but just how long would it be before Wally was ready for that?

 

Too many questions, not enough answers. 

 

He got Wally calmed down enough so he could make a phone call in the bathroom.

 

He tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for the person he was calling to pick up. 

 

_ "Hey there, man. What can I do for ya?" _

__

"Look, Dick. I need you to get over to my place as soon as you can." He peeked over his shoulder and through the crack of the bathroom door. He could make out Wally curled up with a blanket he got him watching T.V. blankly. "I've got a bit of a situation."  


 

He could almost see the thirteen-year-old frown through the phone. _"Situation. Do I need to bring anything?"_

 

"Ya, you know that game console Wally keeps at Mount Justice?"

 

_". . . You want me to bring Wally's game system?"_ He asked in disbelief.

 

"Just do it," Roy instructed firmly. "I'll explain when you get here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a review or a Kudos! Thank-you so much for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> I have a horrible update schedule, but I'll try to get something up soon depending on the response this gets.


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